


Summer slipped us underneath her tongue

by TullyBlue



Series: I like your reckoning [1]
Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: A bit of fluff and a bit of smut, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bartender Zeke, Confident Tina Belcher, Digital Art, F/M, Fanart, Flirting, Journalist Tina Belcher, Making Out, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TullyBlue/pseuds/TullyBlue
Summary: In an effort to help gather evidence on a story she's building a case for, Tina takes an assignment that has her writing some empty, fluff piece on some black tie party. Eventually, her eyes begin to wander away from her work for other possible distractions. Like the cute bartender, maybe.
Relationships: Tina Belcher/Zeke (Bob's Burgers)
Series: I like your reckoning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567288
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Summer slipped us underneath her tongue

**Author's Note:**

> I had a ton of fun writing this, and it was low-key just an exercise at writing something a little smutty. This fic is also the first step in my contributions towards upping the Zina fic count!
> 
> Artwork by the lovely Orimau5 (or Stridermau5 on DeviantArt, where you can find more of their work)!
> 
> Title from Lorde's The Louvre.

The noise of the ball room reached a low buzz around midnight, guests trickling out of various doors and into the humid night air the longer the party stretched on. Silver, silken cloths draped the columns and the stage; women wearing shoes that cost more than her car teetered around and delicately plucked crystalline champagne glasses from silent, stoic waiters. The crowd consisted of politicians, business bigwigs, philanthropists, and low-level celebrities. Glittering jewels and jewel toned dresses, well-tailored suits and polished cuff links. This world intimidated her as much as it drew her in. Even the tables of food spread around the perimeter of the room were unfamiliar to her, far fancier than any of the catering she’d done in her early years. The cheeses she couldn’t pronounce and the small, confusing, “deconstructed” appetizers were far more up her father’s alley than her own. Acknowledging this, she had been at the bar for the last half hour, at least, waiting for her headache to recede and the party to end. 

Gin and tonics were nearly the same everywhere, even when the bar also served millionaires. 

Tina sat with her back half towards the bar, twisted on her stool to face the stage at the far end of the ballroom. Her legs were crossed, phone sitting on one thigh, right hand wrapped firmly around her glass where it balanced on the other. A stylus occupied her free hand. It darted over the screen of her phone, taking notes on everything from the award ceremony the night centered around to the tidbits of gossip she collected throughout the evening. She alternated sips of her drink, glances around the room to determine who still lingered, and her work. The story she came for practically wrote itself; all she would do is summarize the night and laud the people involved, sprinkling in plenty of related facts to make everyone sound good and using loads of generous adjectives. 

The story she had been hoping to find was a bust, tonight at least. Even though over half of the cases she was tracking had ties to the foundation hosting the ceremony, Tina hadn’t found anything useful at all. No suspicious board members, not a single malicious comment, not even fresh gossip pertaining to the string of murders. Instead, she spent hours mingling with the bigger names of the party, all of them pretending they weren't sweltering in the summer heat surrounded by two hundred other sweaty bodies, smiling and asking questions about the work they were doing or the philanthropic plans they had. Her feet hurt, even in her sensible but cute flats. Her headache - from the heat, maybe, or the crowd - wasn't going away fast enough.

She knocked back the rest of her drink, irked at the fruitless night. Sighing, she flagged down the bartender from his spot polishing glasses. He finished with the glass in his hands and smiled at her, reaching with familiarity for the same ingredients she’d requested all night long. Her hand signal changed, throwing up two fingers, and his grin inched up at the request but he nodded all the same. 

Her stylus bounced off her knee as she shook it rapidly in an attempt to alleviate her agitation, brown eyes narrowed at the last bullet point in her doc. _Pres. makes no comment on the murders, nor the possible connections to the domestic violence victims his foundation has helped..._ It would be a throw-away detail in her story, if it even made the final cut, but to Tina, it was the most important thing on the list. The only point that even mattered. 

And, damn it, it said nothing. She had gotten _nothing_ from hours of this stupid, stuffy party she would later have to write some fluff piece on, because she begged her editor for this one little article, even though it was _way_ off from anything she normally wrote. Tammy would be pissed off she had her invitation revoked for weeks, she was sure, mostly because she tried to use any work function with wealthy men involved a chance to find her third husband. 

Obviously, it hadn’t worked out the first two times. Tina really doubted the third time would be the charm for her. The betting pool in the staff lounge at work agreed with her, too. 

“Here ya go, miss,” the bartender said, sitting her drink down and taking the empty glass in turn. He tossed the lime peel in the trash and placed the glass in the sink behind him. Tina watched as his green eyes flitted about the room, accessing, just like her, that the party was steadily dying. He crossed his arms and braced himself on the bar. “Was the party really so boring you end up at the bar, alone and workin’?” 

Tina sipped the drink in her hand to hide her smirk. There were plenty of polished men skirting about, even a few that spared her snug, navy dress a lingering glance. She learned long ago that she didn’t trust a man she couldn’t read. Men like the ones milling about were trained from the cradle to be unreadable, keep their hearts out of play unless signatures and lawyers were involved. The tan bartender with the sweet smile was another story. She read this guy’s smoldering green eyes, charming grins, and flirty tone loud and clear. 

Well, work may be a bust but that didn’t mean the entire night had to be. A handsome man seemed to be showing some interest in her. It had been months since she and Jimmy Jr. broke up, and it felt permanent, this time. He was dating Tracy Schwartz now, dancing to the tune of her trombone. Tina spent a few nights with a few handsome men, her usual rebound practice, and waited around for him to call, until she realized she didn’t really want to get a call from Jimmy Jr. The last couple of months, she spent long hours at work and slowly began building this case about the strangler. It had consumed so much of her professional life that she took this assignment purely on a chance it would provide something useful. When that failed, she was just as stuck as before tonight. So, she could certainly abandon her serial killer theories and enjoy that interest this guy showed, for the night. Besides, she suspected that tux hid a rather beefy pair of arms, and those slacks showed off his backside very nicely when he had to fetch another jar of olives from the bottom shelf earlier. 

She put her screen to sleep, slipped the stylus into its holder, and gave him her attention. “I’m here for work, actually. I just work the floor, rather than the bar.” 

A beat after she spoke, the connotations her words could have crept in, the jokes in her minding sounding very much line Gene and Louise, oddly enough. Before she could feel embarrassed and open her mouth about it, he laughed. 

“Can’t say I’m jealous, really. I like bein’ back here well enough.” 

“What’s the best part? Watching the rich and famous getting trashed, or hearing what comes out of their mouths once they are?” 

He laughed again, boisterous and deep. It made the corners of her lips quirk up, breaking the aloof front she tried putting up, and didn’t mind failing. “They’re both pretty funny, but I gotta say the view is my favorite part. I’ve been enjoyin' it for the last hour or so, ‘specially.” His green eyes were sharp and maybe a little hungry, if she wasn’t too biased. They crinkled with his growing smile when she flushed at his comment. He followed the blush from her cheeks down to her chest, the modest neckline of her dress hiding the rest from sight. His eyes then tracked the white lace covering most of her bodice. It faded out before the skirt, flared from her waist and falling to her knees. She imaged he would follow the line of her exposed calves all the way down to her sensible pumps if not for the interference of the bar. The dress was nice, pretty and simple. Gene picked it the year before, crowing that Tina had to buy it because it was just her color. It had become one of her favorites, and she always felt a bit prettier for wearing it. The bartender seemed to agree. Pride sparked to life in her chest at the way he stared, then bit his lip when he noticed that she had caught him checking her out. 

“Sorry, sorry, I usually tryta refrain from flirtin’ on the job.” He leaned away but Tina wasn’t having any of that, not when he stared so shamelessly at her moments ago. 

She twisted around to face him, phone tucked under her thigh and work completely abandoned. Her story could wait. It wouldn’t take but an hour to type up anyway, and Jessica would have it published in the next morning’s paper. “I’m Tina,” she said, hand extended across the bar between them. 

A smile bloomed on his face once more, the sheepishness leaving his expression as he grabbed her hand. He surprised her by pressing a slightly rough pair of lips to the inside of her wrist. Brazenly skipping the handshake and going straight for seduction, his green eyes looked up at her from under thick, dark lashes as his breath fanned out against her skin. Tina felt herself blushing again, tried to attribute that to the alcohol. “Name’s Zeke,” he rasped over her wrist. She wondered if he could tell her pulse was racing from there. His smirk said, probably, yeah. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya, Miss Tina.” 

Extracting her hand and trying her best not to feel dazed, she said, “The pleasure’s mine.” She took a sip of her gin and tonic, the drink burning less than the ghost of his lips on her wrist. 

“What’s got ya workin’ the floor? Seems like you gotta story to tell, with the way you’ve been writin’ up a storm.” 

She beamed at him, always pleased to talk about the work she loved so much. Too bad covering this event was nothing like her usual stories. Her last three published works all focused on a recently caught mass shooter; the three-piece expose detailed all of his careful planning for an attack on the crowded music festival, once again ending with a call for new laws on gun restriction. Tina took pride in her impactful, serious journalistic endeavors. 

Like showing up to a ceremony celebrating some up-and-coming charity foundation, all while hunting for clues about a serial killer with connections to that charity. Not that she would be telling this attractive bartender about how she spent all night watching every person who remotely fit the police’s profile of the killer. None of the single, mid-to-late thirties, tall, and well-toned women at the party exhibited any suspicious behavior or showed signed of being serial stranglers, anyway. 

“That’s it, actually. I’m here to write up a piece talking about what great work the foundation does, how great the founder is, how good everyone looked accepting their awards, yada yada.” 

“Sounds fascinatin’.” 

“I’ve found the bar to be the most fascinating part of the night, actually.” 

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes glinted in the chandelier lights, drawing Tina forward. She leaned forward on the bar, nearly mirroring his stance from earlier. “And why’s that?” 

“I find the company to be...charming.” 

“Funny enough, I see what you mean.” 

“Have you been a mixologist long?” she asked. 

He laughed, snorting a little. “Hoo, Zeke Tomello: professional mixologist. There’s a word for ya. Nah, I just make drinks. It’s more of a weekend thing, really. The tips are pretty good. My cousin Jocelyn runs the caterin’ company and I help her out when she’s shorthanded. I like workin’ the bar best. I’m a lil clumsy when I’m workin’ the floor.” 

“Me, too,” Tina confessed. “I couldn’t swan around in those stick thin heels like most of these ladies. I can’t see how they walk in those, let alone dance.” 

Zeke reached for a tumbler and poured a couple fingers of whiskey before raising his glass to her. “Here’s to folks who prefer the bar, then.” 

Their glasses clinked together and they drank, sharing smiles over the rims of their drinks first. Tina finished her gin and tonic in one long drag and was surprised to see her companion had done the same. 

Her brown eyes lingered over a drop of whisky clinging to his bottom lip. When his tongue darted out to swipe the drop away, she strongly felt the dryness of her own mouth and averted her gaze from his mouth quickly. Zeke chuckled, the laugh deep, quiet, and sending a wave of goosebumps up her arms. Tina re-crossed her legs, smoothed the skirt of her dress in place. She leaned forward the slightest bit more and mentally regretted not wearing a dress with a lower neckline. Her arms, crossed on the bar beneath her breasts, seemed to do the trick. His eyes went from watching her flushed face to trailing downwards. 

Smiling sweetly, Tina asked, “So, did your cousin Jocelyn say you’d be sticking around til closing time tonight?” 

For a moment, he looked entirely surprised that she asked, like he had fully expected her to keep flirting with him but eventually say goodnight or deny his advances. Her suite was an elevator ride away and he was by far the best thing about her night, with his boyish grins and charming, false confidence. He also had a _very_ nice butt. She had been thinking about grabbing it since her third cocktail, at _least_. 

He finally realized that she was seriously asking about his availability and stuttered out a hurried, “H-hold up, one-one sec, darlin’.” After a cursory glance to make sure there was no one waiting at the bar, he darted off towards a group of uniformly dressed waiters. Tina watched as he put his hand on a willowy blonde’s shoulder, pulling her aside to have a quick, whispered conversation. The woman rolled her eyes and popped her gum in Zeke’s face, in, like, a fond way, and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before running off. Annoyance flared through Tina at the sight, but he was literally rushing towards her with a smitten look on his face. 

She took a moment to stuff her phone and wallet in her small bag. Everything else was already up in her hotel room or in the trunk of her car, not that she brought much. The event was in a city only a couple hours from her home, just a weekend spent writing something up on the party and touching base with the most important participants for comments. Her light travel habits came in handy, it seemed, as she tucked the strap of her lightweight purse over one arm and let it dangle by her seat. Her attention was drawn to Zeke. 

His approach allowed her to admire his entire frame at one time, instead of from behind, or partially hidden by the bar. She wondered if his shoulders were naturally so broad, or if something from his day job influenced that. He had a stocky build, easygoing attitude in his body language, and brown hair that curled a little bit. Tina wondered if it was as soft as it looked. She liked the idea of running her hands through his thick, chestnut hair. She liked the idea of wrapping her arms around his neck to closer inspect those green eyes, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Zeke stopped in front of her, those jade eyes crinkled up with his smile.

With a flourish, he held his hand out to her. “Joss says I’m free to take off. Is there anywhere special you got in mind, Miss...?” 

“Belcher,” she supplied, grateful when he didn’t crack a joke at her name. Tina took his hand, heart stuttering in her chest for a moment. Her hand almost disappeared in his, they were so large, but he handled her gently and laced their fingers together when she pulled him towards the door. She wished she’d realized how tall he was when she was sitting at the bar. Those tall stools warped her point of view, apparently, and she found the height difference made her breath hitch the first second they stood chest to chest after he helped her to her feet. 

She pressed him into the first nook outside the ballroom she could find, suppressing a smile at his stumbling feet and stuttering words. Her giggles were muffled against his collar and his hands settled on her hips. She felt like she was burning, a body full of embers that flared to life under his hands. His back hit the wall and it didn’t faze him at all. Tina teetered on her toes to brush her lips against his softly. Something like a growl rumbled through his chest, hands tightening on her hips to drag her closer. The alcohol and the attraction were buzzing in her veins; the way his chest almost heaved under her hands, _and she hadn’t even kissed him yet_ , spoke of eagerness that she wanted to experience. 

Still standing on her toes, she was tall enough to kiss him. She looked up at him, peeking out from underneath her lashes. “Can I kiss you, Zeke?” 

He huffed a laugh an inch from her mouth before saying, with all seriousness, “If you don’t, I might cry.” 

Their lips met, the awkward brush of two smiles unable to be contained, until Zeke wrapped one arm around her waist and reached up with the other to cup her cheek in his calloused, warm hand. A rough thumb stroked her cheek as his lips molded against hers, the arm around her middle keeping her in place easier than all the strength in her calves. She melted against him. The curls at the nape of his neck were adorable, soft, and tugging on them a bit drug a deep groan from his chest. She made him repeat the noise when she snagged his lower lip with her teeth. He cursed when she broke the kiss; his eyes settled on her smug smile for one second before steering her face back to his, capturing her lips with such enthusiasm that her glasses were knocked to the side. 

When she escaped him again, hands running down his classic, black tuxedo jacket and admiring the solid chest beneath, they were both panting. His lips were plumper than earlier, deep cherry smudges evident on the sides of his mouth and at his collar. Something lurched in her chest at the sight of her lipstick staining the white button-up he wore. It was such a barefaced sign of intimacy that it twisted her heart. She liked that look on Zeke. Hell, she liked Zeke, from their short bout of banter and the way he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve even during random hook-ups after a black-tie party. The drinks he mixed were perfect. His laugh was ready and infectious. He seemed honest, and that was refreshing. 

There were also the small facts that his kisses made her knees weak and she was about one poorly suppressed moan from Zeke away from grabbing his ass. Tina pressed a trail of eager kisses along his jawline and restrained herself from hooking a leg around his waist to get even closer, but only barely. 

His hands fisted the gauzy layer of material that flared out at the waist of her dress, and suddenly they were skirting dangerous territory. Zeke set her back on her feet, grinning at the way her knees wobbled as they remembered how to work. She could feel that the clip pinning her bangs back had slipped out of place, and he brushed the hair out of her eyes as if to emphasize that. His hand cupped her cheek again, thumb stroking along her the curve of her cheekbone. 

“Do you know I spent five hours agonizin’ over how pretty you were, and then you came and sat down at my bar. I thought I’d spent the whole night wishin' you’d look at me, just once.” 

“It only took once,” Tina insisted, after several sharp breaths while she absorbed his words. “You had a much better butt than the other bartender.” 

He laughed again, then dropped a light kiss to her lips and did not allow her to press further. “And you’re damn funny, T-Bird. I didn’t expect that, but it’s sexy as hell. I like a girl that can make me laugh.” 

“I like how much you laugh,” she murmured. “I like how thoughtful you are.” Her fingers wrapped around his collar, slowly. He allowed her to drag her down to his level, pressed his hands more firmly to her waist when they trembled after she kissed him heatedly. “And I like that.” 

“Gotta say, I like that, too.” 

Tina took a step backwards, away from him, her hands falling from his collar to meet his at her waist. His eyebrows raised in an unasked question. She watched his gaze dart between her lips and her eyes, more than once. Her purse bumped against her hip as she took another step back and she thought of her little wallet, holding the bare essentials: a small amount of cash, her driver's license and press ID, exactly one family photo of the Belchers that her dad insisted she carry in her wallet, and the key to her room. 

Another step and his fingertips were barely hanging on, his expression marred by confusion. She rolled her eyes fondly and grabbed one of his hands. “I’m heading upstairs for the night, and wouldn’t mind some company.” 

He followed her to the elevators with a heated palm pressed to the small of her back and a grin that almost looked dazed. That changed when the doors were closed and it was just the two of them, alone, on a six-floor ride. He backed her up against the wall of the elevator, his thick arm wedged between her back and the cold metal rail lining the wall, and kissed her intently. His free hand trailed feather-soft paths along her arm, collar, and neck until his fingers tangled in her hair. She was a whimpering mess by the time the room stopped moving, several long moments after the elevator doors had opened again. 

They were barely through her door when she started prying off his jacket, fingers dragging the fabric down his broad shoulders. When he took that over, wiggling it down his arms and tossing it to the floor, Tina refocused her attentions towards loosening his bow tie and untucking his shirt. She vaguely registered Zeke kicking the door shut. His teeth scraped along the column of her throat as he dragged the zipper down the back of her dress. It pooled to the floor and her fingers were working the buttons on his shirt when Zeke grabbed her wrists, kissed her hard, and pinned her to the nearest wall. He trapped her hands above her head, both wrists easily held in one of his large hands, rough fingers keeping her in place firmly but loosely. His other hand ghosted along her arm and tangled in her hair. Heat pooled in her stomach at his touch, her heart thudding hard against her chest, and she moaned when he started a trail over open mouthed kisses along her throat.

“Can you put your hands on my shoulders, honey?” he rasped against her ear.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak coherently. Zeke removed his hand without hesitation, her hands dropping down to rest on his shoulders as both of his palms pressed against her hips for the duration of the hungry kiss he dipped down to give her. He gave her a salacious grin when he pulled back, the little bit of a warning she needed before he moved again. In one smooth motion, his hands glided from her hips, over her ass, down the backs of her thighs, and grasped the back of her knees to heft her up. His strong arms – _d_ _amn, did she love being right_ – supported her as she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively. From this angle, she was pleased to find herself the tiniest bit taller than him. 

Tina spent the walk to the bedroom whispering directions against his lips while they giggled like teenagers. She got lost admiring the fullness of his lips and eyebrows, how green the little bit of his irises that she could see were, and the cute dusting of barely visible freckles across his cheeks. One of her hands was still tangled in his hair, playing with the curls, when he lowered them both to the mattress and kissed the breath from her lungs. She arched up against him, met every action of his with enthusiasm and a carnality she sometimes forgot she possessed. Over the course of the night, she found a hundred more things about Zeke that caught her attention. His tenderness surprised her, though she found herself much more confounded at how his deep, desperate voice growling her name brought her so much pleasure. He took her aback, this earnest, good-looking man and the way he reduced her to a moaning, shuddering mess so quickly. And the way he responded to her, so keen and _sincere_ , prompted her to ardently pant his name against his lips, bare and bent under his hands. 

She started to fall asleep with her head on his chest, their legs tangled together as he hummed some song she couldn’t place. Her carefully selected outfit for the evening was strewn around the hotel room, mingled with the sharp suit Zeke had been wearing. Somewhere under the scattered fabric was her purse, and therefore her phone, but she had no plans of fishing it out to set alarms for an early morning. 

With Zeke’s gentle humming and steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep, Tina couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so sated and happy. She lazily slid a hand over his arm, lips pressing a kiss to his chest. She tried focusing on the perfection of the moment and ignored the question on the tip of her tongue, asking if he would be here when she woke up. 

He tangled their fingers together over his stomach before she let herself drift off. 

They were still holding hands when she woke up, and they were holding hands when he escorted her to her car that morning, placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and asked her out to lunch later that day. Tina collected her statements about the party in a daze and typed up the story in record time, polished it to perfection during a spontaneous pedicure appointment. She had it sent off to Jessica before she left to meet Zeke for lunch, and smiled when her boss’s replying email only told her to _enjoy the rest of the weekend_. That would be easy enough.

Zeke greeted her with a lingering kiss and a crooked smile that made her heart stutter. He pulled out her chair, held her hand, asked her questions about herself and her day. He told her funny stories and talked about the crazy, last minute things Jocelyn had asked of him. He brushed her hair out of her face. He kissed her hand, her wrist, her cheek. And when their plates were clean and they lingered over refills, he asked her when he could see her again. 

She drove home the next morning with a dozen things to remember Zeke Tomello by – the bruises on her hips, his number in her contacts with several emojis after his name, even the ragged _Lynard_ _Skynard_ shirt tucked in her travel bag. Best of all was the date they had scheduled for the following week, because Tina was too busy to meet up until then. He even offered to drive down to see her, instead of meeting halfway. Her smile lasted the entire two and a half hour drive. She didn’t even dread going back into the office and hearing Tammy’s whining about a lack of suitable men. After all, _Tina_ didn’t seem to have such poor luck when she blended work and pleasure. 


End file.
